


I Can Resist Everything (Except Temptation

by cagestark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Best Friend's Dad Trope, Blowjobs, Bucky is a Literal Dad, Daddy Kink, F/M, Female!Tony Stark, I Can't Make it Make Sense, Morgan is Bucky's Daughter, Older Man/Younger Woman, Rough Oral Sex, Toni Stark - Freeform, Toni is Seventeen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagestark/pseuds/cagestark
Summary: Bucky works hard to avoid his daughter's best friend. Toni works hard to pursue him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 229





	I Can Resist Everything (Except Temptation

Bucky knocks on his daughter’s bedroom door and then waits, because his baby girl is eighteen years old now and there are things about her that he never,  _ ever  _ wants to know. From inside her room comes a cacophony of noise before he hears her shout, _ Come in! _ and like a vampire who requires explicit permission to enter, at last he opens the door and leans against the frame. 

Morgan is seated on the floor surrounded by textbooks. Music plays where her iPod is docked on her desk, something youthful with a (horrifyingly) sexual undertone that he immediately works to block out and scrub from his brain. There is a smear of neon yellow highlighter across Morgan’s nose. It’s his solemn duty as a father to ignore it and allow her to discover it hours later. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see  _ her _ . 

With his gaze set on Morgan, Toni Stark is nothing but a smear of dark hair and clothing where she reclines on Morgan’s bed. Though he isn’t looking, he can feel her eyes on him. An oppressive, burning pressure. The need to return her gaze feels like the desperate need to scratch an itch that is growing annoying and painful, but he doesn’t give in. 

“Did you hide the body?” he asks, referencing the racket that had followed his knock. 

Engrossed in the textbook she’s flipping through, Morgan responds distractedly: “Whose body?” 

Bucky snorts. SAT’s are in a week and Morgan is running herself ragged studying for them. Grudgingly, he’ll admit that Toni has been a great help to her—everyone knows the Starks, knows that Howard Stark is a genius and that his intellect was passed on to his only child. Since they’ve started hanging out, Morgan’s GPA has thrived, and Toni has taken it upon herself to make sure the younger girl is prepared for testing. She’s a good friend to Morgan. 

“Forget it, kiddo. I’m ordering in for dinner tonight. You pick.” 

“Pizza?” Morgan asks, demeanor perking up. 

“You got it. I’ll shout when it’s here, so keep the music down.” 

Morgan gives him a thumbs-up, already losing herself again in her work. “Thanks, dad,” she murmurs.

From the corner of the room comes a smokey voice: “Yeah, thanks dad.” 

The reflex to look at the source of the noise is subconscious, his eyes moving before his brain can stop himself.

Toni looks like a sin waiting to be committed where she lounges on the pastel purple bedspread. Her skinny jeans are clinging to every line of her legs, and the distressed tank-top she wears shows a generous swell of her breasts, the obnoxiously large armholes baring an obscene amount of her tanned ribs and the lacy sides of her bra. Her dark hair is fanned out over the pillow and the  _ look  _ she gives him is reminiscent of a woman who has just received the fuck of her life. 

Except she’s not a woman, Bucky reminds himself. She’s seventeen years old. She’s his daughter’s best friend. It doesn’t matter if—from the moment Morgan brought the girl home and introduced them—Toni had hit on him without shame. It doesn’t matter if she uses every opportunity to touch him, to undress him with her eyes, to make suggestive comments. It wouldn’t— _ shouldn’t _ —matter if she was on her knees in front of him begging for it. 

She’s just a girl, and Bucky is a grown man. 

Throat constricted too tightly to respond, he lets his expression turn cold and shuts the door.

-

Two hours later finds the three of them in the living room playing their respective parts in a strange display of domesticity. On the television is a drama that Morgan had picked out, though judging by the snores he hears from the pile of blankets beside him, she hasn’t been able to see much of it. The coffee table holds an open box of pizza with a few slices going cold. Toni says she likes them better that way. 

Toni. She’s sitting on the floor in the corner of the room with their desktop computer tower open and in pieces in front of her. An impossibly small screwdriver is tucked behind her ear the way a scholar might tuck away a pencil. Slouched over to see into the computer case the way she is, Bucky can see far too much thanks to the armholes of her tank top. 

He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen until Morgan gives a snore that he can’t ignore. 

“Come on, M,” Bucky says, heart warm at the sight of her bleary eyes blinking awake at him. She’s working too hard. He makes a mental note to do something special for her as soon as her test is finished; something that will remind her that he loves her no matter what her test scores say. “Go up to bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she mumbles, standing and tugging the blanket around herself. She pats at his head and musses his hair in the way he pretends to hate. “Night dad. Toni, get out of my house.”

“Or what?” Toni asks. “Gonna fall asleep and drool on me like you did your dad? I’m shaking.”

“Bitch,” Morgan says warmly. 

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Bucky calls to her retreating figure. Thankfully he can’t hear whatever she mutters under her breath before shutting her door with a click.

“Why not watch  _ my  _ mouth?” 

Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin when Toni’s voice comes from much closer than her previous position across the room. The computer tower sits abandoned and instead Toni sits at his feet watching him with a crooked smile that makes him angry and aroused all at once.  _ When will she fucking learn? _ he wonders with rising hysteria. Another, quieter voice wonders,  _ How much longer until I give in? _

“Go home, Toni.” 

“Or what?” she asks again. Her hand reaches out and rests on his knee, an electric touch that singes him. She looks up at him with huge, falsely guileless eyes. “Mr. Barnes, I know we don’t get much chance to talk, but I wanted to tell you that I think you’re such a great dad to Morgan. She told me all about how your ex-wife would never let you two see each other and how when you finally got custody of her, you worked so hard to make up for lost time. I think that’s great.” 

“Thanks. Put it in writing and fax it to me, okay, kid? You need to get going.” 

Toni does the opposite of ‘get going’. She makes herself comfortable. Shifting forward on her knees through the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch, she seats herself between his spread thighs looking so fucking tiny compared to him. Unwillingly, he swallows at the suggestive sight.  _ Move her, Bucky _ , the last rational thought in his brain cries.  _ She looks like she’s about to give you a fucking suck job. What if Morgan came downstairs right now? Move!  _

But it doesn’t matter where she’s at—not if he doesn’t plan on doing anything, right? Even if she crawled into his lap, nothing would happen as long as Bucky didn’t let it. 

“My dad? He sucks, Mr. Barnes. He’s nothing like you. If you were my dad?” Toni says breathlessly. “I bet you’d take such good care of me.” 

Bucky clenches his jaw. There are plenty of ways he’d like to take care of her: by shoving her out the front door, maybe; by calling Howard Stark and letting him know that his barely-legal daughter has aged taste in men; by pressing her flat to the floor and burying his face between her legs until she wakes Morgan and the entire block with her cries. 

“Wouldn’t you?” she asks, fingers creeping up his thighs. Her eyes are glued to his—a good thing, considering the bulge at the crotch of his jeans definitely wasn’t there minutes ago. “Wouldn’t you, dad?”

_ “Don’t—call—me—that _ ,” he says through his teeth. 

Her eyes widen in an expression of delight. “Oh, you like it, is that it?” 

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

“I do. Oh yeah, I do. I know exactly how you react to things you want, things you like, things you think you shouldn’t have.” Light as butterfly wings, she trails her fingertips along the zipper of his jeans, both of them sucking in a breath at the boldness. 

Bucky reaches out and grabs her wrist. She’s tiny enough that he can encircle the fragile arm with his fingers with plenty of overlap. He grips her tight—maybe tighter than he means to, feeling like a rope frayed nearly to snapping, desperate to convey that she’s playing a game she doesn’t even know the rules to. 

“You don’t know what you’re even asking for,” he says. Beneath his fingers, he can feel her steady, pounding pulse. 

But still she looks up at him with no fear, with nothing but that smug smile curling at the corner of her lips. “I think I do,  _ daddy _ .”

He snaps. With one hard tug of her wrist, he wrenches her up into a kneeling position until her stomach is pressed flush against the couch between his legs. His other hand he tangles into her long dark hair, gripping close to the roots. Better to control her with, he thinks, jerking her forward. Bucky gets one glimpse of her face, eyes glittering, mouth open in a breathless expression of shock or delight (or perhaps both) before he presses their mouths together and consumes her. 

She can’t even keep up, tongue following a step behind his every move. It’s brutal as far as kisses go, all tongue and teeth and swallowing her every sound and breath until he feels her pulling at the grip he maintains on her hair, desperate to break the seal of their mouths so that she can take more than a few frantic gasps of air. The power that thrums inside his chest makes his head feel heavy. When he lets her go, her back collides with the edge of the coffee table as she stares up at him.

“Mister Barnes,” she gasps, mouth red, eyes positively glittering with a triumph that makes his jaw clench. 

Before she can open her mouth to say another word, he clicks his tongue to silence her. For once—and perhaps this will be the only time—she listens to him, brows furrowing even as her lips close. “I’m not Mr. Barnes,” he says. He barely recognizes his voice: rasping and dark. “Not tonight. You know what to call me.” 

Toni licks her swollen lips. “Daddy,” she says.

Her bending to his will threatens to intoxicate him. Leaning away to rest his back against the couch, she sways towards him as if to lose an inch between them is undesirable. As if she is nothing but a piece of iron helpless to resist the magnetic pull inside of him. When his hand falls down to the button of his jeans, she watches the movement raptly. 

“You’ve been gagging for it since day one, haven’t you?” Bucky asks, unfastening his jeans. He shifts until he can work his cock free, drinking in the way her gaze goes hungry, her chest rising and falling rapidly even as she shifts on her knees to get closer. When he takes it into his fist and gives it a few long strokes, Toni lets out an unintentional breathy sound, clicking her teeth shut against it just a moment too late. “Go ahead then. Gag on it.” 

But for all the confidence she has exuded over the last several months, her hand shakes as she reaches out. Maybe it’s just the adrenalin, the thrill of finally getting what she has badgered him for. But maybe it isn’t, and Bucky isn’t so far gone (could never be so far gone) as to overlook or ignore what could be fear. The vulnerability is akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped over Bucky’s head. 

“Hey,” he says, swallowing until the roughness in his voice has melted away. She looks up from his cock at him, her eyes wide and clear and surprisingly un-Toni like. “We can stop. Right now. It’s never too late to stop.” 

A smile blooms on her face. He’s struck for the first time by how pretty she is; sure, he has always known that she is beautiful in an objective way, and while he has called her many adjectives in his head like sexy, this is the first time she’s looked at him with an expression that hints at more than just what she’d like to do to him. 

Reaching up, she takes his cheek between her thumb and forefinger and pinches. “See? That’s why you’re daddy.” 

Then, she gags on it. Leans down, one hand braced against the back of the couch and the other holding his cock steady so that she can try to swallow it whole, the blunt head bumping the back of her spasming throat. The wet sound of her gagging goes straight to his balls. She holds herself there as long as she can before she pulls off, retching and coughing, eyes streaming tears. Mesmerized, he reaches out and wipes a thumb through the wetness beneath one eye. 

She grins before leaning down to lap at the weeping head of his cock. He grits his teeth at the sight, gathering her hair into his hands so that it doesn’t obstruct his view as she begins to do more than choke on his cock. She blows him with well honed skill, hand working the few inches she can’t reasonably take. Sometimes she pulls off just to lap or suck on the head, her eyes closed, wet lashes resting against her cheeks as if she is experiencing nirvana. Whenever his cock spits precum, she makes a needy sound in the back of her throat, like his goddamn cum is ambrosia. 

It’s too much. It’s going to his head. Bucky has never thought highly of himself, not in his thirty-plus years of life, but under Toni’s mouth and hands, he feels like he might be made of gold.  _ A man could fall in love with her, _ he thinks when she flashes her eyes up at him, lips curling around his cock at his intent gaze. 

When his balls draw up and he feels that coil in his gut grow dangerously close to snapping, he tugs at her hair. “Pull off. I’m going to cum—” 

The sound she makes is frantic and affected, the hand balanced against the couch moving away until her palm is flat against his navel, pressing him into the couch as if she could pin him there. He tightens his grip on her hair and tugs again. Jesus, if she doesn’t stop, he’s going to cum in her fucking mouth. But the way her nails dig into his skin, eyes flashing upwards at him, he realizes that’s what she wants. 

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, thighs tensing. “You want it, don’t you, pretty girl? You want daddy’s cum? You’ve been working so hard for it, working since day one. Fuck, you’ve earned it. If you want it, take it,  _ take it Toni _ —” 

The rest of his rambling dies in his throat as the coil inside him snaps and he cums. It takes all of his effort to keep from thrusting into the burning, wet heat of her mouth as she fastens her lips around the head as if trying to suck the cum straight from his balls. Her fist never halts its smooth motion as she milks him for all he’s worth, fisting him even after she swallows the last of his load, leaning in to lap at the head whenever her ceaseless hand works another bead of cum from him. 

And it’s all cut short at the sound upstairs of Morgan’s bedroom door opening. They both freeze, staring at each other with twin expressions of horror.

“Dad?” Morgan calls. Bucky’s heart pounds. Jesus, this is it. She heard something, of course she did, the walls aren’t soundproof and who the hell knows what kind of noises I made when I came. She’s going to come down those stairs and find out what a huge fucking pervert her father is. “Can you raise the thermostat? It’s freezing up here.”

Both of their shoulders sag in silent relief. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky calls out: “Can do, kiddo.” 

“Love you,” Morgan calls sleepily, not even waiting for a response before her door shuts. 

Toni lets out a sigh that is half a laugh as she leans forward and rests her head against one of his jean-clad thighs. He reaches down to tuck his cock away even if he leaves his pants unbuttoned for the time being. All at once—with the single click of a door opening—it feels like reality has set in again. The lustful soap bubble they had been drifting in has popped and now Bucky’s chest clenches with guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that. You know I shouldn’t have done that, right?” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“That doesn’t make it right.” 

Toni rolls her eyes. “Save it for your minister. Write it down and fax it to them, maybe.” 

“I’m serious,” Bucky says. A juxtaposition to his words, he reaches out to tenderly tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “That can never happen again.” 

“You’re right,” she says, taking his hand to press a kiss to his palm. “Because next time I want a little  _ reciprocity _ , daddy. How the hell am I supposed to focus on traffic and make it home when I’m this fucking wet? You’re going to get me into an accident.” 

Toni being wet (just from blowing him, she got wet  _ sucking him off!  _ his brain helpfully emphasizes) is the last thing Bucky needs to think about. Thank god he’d put his cock away or she’d be able to see the way it twitched with interest at the thought. A hand on his cheek has him looking up—Toni has stood from her position between his legs and looks down at him with an expression that is equal parts happy and devious. 

“I’d better go in case Morgan comes back down.” 

“Yeah,” he says, mouth dry. “Yeah, you should do that.” 

Leaning down, she presses her lips against where the warmth of her touch had lingered. Breath brushing against his ear, she whispers: “I’ll see you tomorrow after school,  _ daddy _ .”

  
  



End file.
